


cowboys make better lovers

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Violence, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: Tyler robs a train. Josh happens to be one of the passengers on said train.They get along well enough.





	cowboys make better lovers

The plan was simple: hop onto the caboose, ransack the passenger cars, and get the hell out of there. Tyler had pulled this same exact stunt dozens upon dozens of times; no matter the circumstances, he always walked away a free man - a _richer_ man. As rich as an outlaw can afford to be, anyway.  
  
This run wouldn't be any different. He was counting on that.  
  
Sure, things had been a little more _challenging_ ever since Zack and Jay moved on, but Tyler had been the ring leader from day one. Meaning they had always needed him more than he needed them. And Tyler had never needed anyone. Not a single goddamn person. Not even his mama.  
  
_Not even my mama._  
  
So he struck alone, and on a Sunday. Tyler always committed his worst crimes on Sundays - preferably before 10AM. That's when people were at their most vulnerable, all dressed up in their finest church clothes and contemplating the Lord's word.  
  
_You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly._  
  
That used to be Tyler's favorite. Still was, in a way. Because no matter how deep a hole he dug himself, no matter how far he ran, the will of God would always mean something to him.  
  
Gunslingers and religious guilt went hand in hand. Tyler was no exception.  
  
Tyler was ungodly.  
  
It was the ungodliness that led him to the hilltop overlooking the tracks - the perfect vantage point. He liked to believe God had sculpted that hill just for him, despite knowing it wasn’t the least bit true.  
  
He had to buy into shit like that. If he didn’t, he’d lose his mind.  
  
The waiting was always the worst part. Tyler was smart, sure (he would’ve been dead by then otherwise), but he was also deathly impatient. He sat perched atop his horse for a good thirty minutes before the rumbling started.  
  
The train seemed to drag itself out of the horizon like a fox from a hole. And Tyler was the prized hound, wild-eyed and feral, practically foaming at the mouth at the thought of all the money stuffed inside this fox in particular.  
  
So easy. So _painfully_ easy. He’d be in and out so fast they wouldn’t even know what hit them.  
  
But first, he had to get in.  
  
He started his horse downhill at a trot in an attempt to seem a little less suspicious. The train had only recently left the station, meaning it wasn’t going full speed. No need to rush - not yet, anyway. The longer he went without attracting attention, the better.  
  
But attention was inevitable. The guard positioned at the very back of the caboose definitely didn’t like the look of him; to be fair, any scruffy-looking stranger who materializes out of nowhere is bound to cause suspicion, especially when they’re sporting a bandana. Masks mean trouble, and this guard knew it.  
  
“You best move along,” was the first thing he said when Tyler fell into step alongside the train. Not a suggestion but a command, growled tense and angry from between flashing teeth. The barrel of his shotgun flashed, too, but Tyler’s pistol was ten times as shiny. He just preferred not to waste bullets.  
  
“I don’t wanna cause any trouble, mister,” said Tyler, voice raised to combat the incessant roaring of the train. “Just had a few questions regardin’ this here locomotive.”  
  
“You’re asking the wrong fella, pal.” Angry. Guards were always angry. “I don’t make the damn things. I just keep ‘em safe.”  
  
“Oh. Are you any good at your job?”  
  
The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”  
  
“Guess there’s no point asking when we’re about t’find out,” he said, and the guard was just reaching for his gun when Tyler made the jump and slammed into him, knocking him off the platform and watching him disappear over the side.  
  
Easy.  
  
Eyes sharp, pistol in hand, Tyler moseyed his way through the caboose like he belonged there - like it was his God-given right to cross over into the next car, aim at the nearest passenger, and growl _money, please._  
  
Chaos erupted, as was expected. Screaming and crying and pleas for mercy. Tyler paid no mind. He just kept going from seat to seat, passenger to passenger, swiping dollars and coins from shaking hands. Easy. Like clockwork.  
  
Then he got to the last few rows, and that’s when he ran into trouble. Because the curly-haired boy in the second-to-last seat was staring at him with overlapping pools of horror and defiance. Sitting to his left was a similar face - brothers, Tyler guessed. The older one was shielding the younger like his body could repel bullets.  
  
Tyler thought of Jay. Tyler thought of Zack. Tyler got sad, and angry, and annoyed.  
  
“Don’t be dumb,” he said, lip curling, but the bastard just kept staring at him with no intention of handing over _anything_.  
  
Tyler thought about firing a warning shot before deciding it wasn’t worth it. Thanks to the charity of the other passengers, he’d already collected upwards of five hundred dollars; that was more than enough.  
  
Somewhere along the way, amongst all the commotion, the train had come to a stop. Tyler assumed the conductor had heard the screams for mercy and was now cowering in the locomotive, which was fine. One less person standing in his way.  
  
He was feeling pretty damn good when he swung out the back of the car and dropped onto the grass, pockets full and horse waiting. Everything had gone so smoothly, so _perfectly_ , and by the time the law found out he’d be long gone. He planned on riding all the way to Kentucky without looking back.  
  
But Tyler was ungodly, which is why he barely had one foot in the stirrups when he was being grabbed by the shoulders and shoved to the ground. The back of his head hit the dirt, and he swore, and spat, and found himself looking up at the same conflicted face from before. Scared, but still seeking justice.  
  
“I think,” said the boy, voice shaking, “you should give those folks their money back.”  
  
“You wanna play the hero?” Tyler bared crooked teeth, eyes flashing like trees getting struck by lightning. “Fine.”  
  
In a matter of seconds he had swept the martyr off his feet with a wayward leg, sending him crashing to the ground; Tyler was looming over him with a cocked pistol in hand before he could catch his breath.  
  
“Die like one, then.”  
  
If the poor bastard had been scared before, he was fucking terrified now. He glanced from the gun to Tyler and back again, chest heaving, mouth twitching, hands trembling. Tyler would’ve felt bad for him if he wasn’t the way that he was.  
  
“Not so big and bad when there’s a gun in your face, huh?” There was something about being in control that made Tyler more insufferable than usual. He curled his pointer finger a little tighter around the trigger. "Get up."  
  
So he got up, all shaky knees and round eyes.  
  
"Turn around."  
  
He turned around.  
  
Tyler used his free hand to reach into the saddlebag and rummage around for some rope - the real strong kind. Perfect for tying some poor schmuck's wrists together. But maybe he was wiser than Tyler gave him credit for, because he didn't put up a fight when he was jostled onto the horse. Tyler had a gun. He didn't. It was as simple as that.  
  
Swinging himself into the saddle, Tyler glanced over his shoulder at the boy's best attempt at a brave face. "Don't try anything. I mean it."  
  
He nodded, and they were off.  
  
The ride was quiet; never-ending. The plains seemed to stretch on forever, the sun plunging itself deep into the sea of gold-stained grass. Tyler watched it disappear, ears humming with horse hooves and coyote cries, and all the while his hostage sat patiently behind him, saying nothing. He could’ve been fast asleep for all Tyler knew, but he wasn’t. Just quiet.  
  
Tyler liked quiet folks. They never gave him much trouble.  
  
The moon had laid claim to the sky by the time Tyler decided to stop for the night. He eased his horse to a stop and dropped to the ground, boots hitting the dirt with a thud that made the boy shudder. Maybe he thought Tyler had brought him to the middle of nowhere to shoot him. Maybe he was just twitchy.  
  
“C’mon,” Tyler mumbled, reaching up to grab his arm; help him down. The boy shied away at first but didn’t put up a fight. Why would he? Tyler was the one with free hands and a firearm, remember?  
  
“Sit tight, okay?” The only response he got was a slow blink. “I’m gonna get a fire going.”  
  
It didn’t take long for Tyler to set up camp - he’d been making little homes out of nothing since he was twelve. His new friend, on the other hand, was clearly out of his element. He kept looking around like all the open space was suffocating him. Tyler didn’t understand it, but he had trouble understanding most folks.  
  
Once the fire had been brought to a dull roar Tyler settled down on the grass, motioning for his friend to do the same. Left with no other choice, he humored his kidnapper, sitting cross-legged and silent in front of the crackling flames.  
  
Now that Tyler had a chance to really look at the kid, he could see there was a sizable difference between him and the rest of the rich suckers riding the train: he was doe-eyed and honey-faced, humble and quiet with strong arms but a softer stomach. Easy to pity.  
  
“What's with the sad puppy eyes?" Tyler asked after a twenty-second stretch of silence. The puppy in question shrugged, not looking at him.  
  
“Just miss my mama, that’s all.”  
  
“Yeah?” Tyler squinted at him. “Where're you from, anyway?"  
  
“Jackson county,” said the mama’s boy. “I, uh, work on my family's ranch."  
  
“Where were you heading? Before I stopped you, I mean."  
  
He rolled his shoulders, wincing. "Me 'n my brother were s'posed to visit my sisters in Indiana."  
  
“Oh.” Tyler scratched at his jaw. “Sorry."  
  
More silence. Tyler watched his Adam’s apple bob - up and down, up and down. Watched him chew his lip and croak, “What're you gonna do with me?"  
  
“Y'know,” said Tyler, giving him an even look, “I haven't really decided yet."  
  
The poor boy from Jackson county sighed deep in his chest, suddenly looking very tired. “Well, if you up and kill me, at least hand my body over to my folks."  
  
“What's your name?" Tyler asked, because that was a reasonable request.  
  
“Joshua Dun."  
  
“I'll keep that in mind, Joshua."  
  
                                             ;  
  
Tyler awoke to the sound of Joshua’s voice.  
  
“Get up, mister. You’d better get going.”  
  
Pinching the bridge of his sharp little nose, Tyler rolled over to glare at the kid through narrowed eyes, and probably would’ve told him to fuck off if it wasn’t for the _pop pop pop_ of gunshots three seconds later.  
  
Trouble.  
  
Sitting up so fast that he got dizzy, Tyler squinted in the direction of the gunfire and found three silhouettes pouring out of the horizon. Lawmen, and coming in hot.  
  
"Shit," Tyler muttered under his breath, scrambling to his feet in a whirlwind of dust and panic. He started for his horse only to stop dead when a bullet whistled past his ear - a surefire sign that running away wasn't an option. They'd put lead in his back as soon as he got in the saddle.  
  
All he could do was stand his ground.  
  
Snatching his pistol from its holster, he made a beeline for the nearest boulder and ducked behind it, momentarily forgetting that his new friend Joshua was still stuck out in the open with his hands tied.  
  
Tyler should've left him. He should've ignored the whimpers, the cries for help. He should've done the smart thing.  
  
And yet something undeniably stupid compelled him to leave the boulder behind so he could grab Josh by the arm and drag him to safety, almost getting shot in the head in the process. Did he regret it?  
  
"Thank you," Josh sputtered, chest heaving and eyes round with gratitude. "Thank you so much."  
  
No. No, he didn't regret it.  
  
"Don't mention it," Tyler said all in one breath, and with that he peered over the top of the boulder and let the trigger fly.  
  
Out of all the gunfights Tyler had gotten involved in, this one was by far the longest. The bastards were relentless, but considering the bounty on Tyler's head, he couldn't really blame them. He just had to fire a few more rounds than usual.  
  
Josh kept his eyes squeezed shut the entire time.  
  
The scuffle ended with two of the men slumped over dead on their horses and the third heading in the opposite direction, stirring up a whole lot of dust as he went. Tyler considered putting a bullet between his shoulders before deciding against it.  
  
"You can open your eyes now," Tyler mumbled, elbowing Josh in the ribs. "I took care of it."  
  
Eyelashes fluttering, Josh blinked up at him as if in a trance, mouth opening and closing like a restless trapdoor. The white-to-brown ratio of his eyes told Tyler that he was on the brink of crying.  
  
And for some unknown reason, Tyler looked at him and said, "Sorry."  
  
"It's, uh. It's fine." His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat, asking, "Do you do that a lot?"  
  
Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. "What, shoot people? I guess. But only if they try to shoot me first."  
  
"Good to know," Josh said, suddenly looking very sickly and pale, and Tyler decided it was finally time to put him out of his misery. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he rolled his eyes when Josh started squirming away in a panic and grabbed him by the forearm so he could cut the rope.  
  
Josh's reaction was one of pleasant surprise. Rubbing tenderly at his pink wrists, he looked at Tyler like he was a puzzle just begging to be solved.  
  
"You can go now," said the puzzle, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.  
  
"Go where?"  
  
"Wherever the hell you want," Tyler muttered, rising up from behind the boulder; dusting off his pants. "I could care less."  
  
Struggling to his feet after him, Josh looked frantically from left to right, eyes getting wider by the second. "I... I don't even know where we are."  
  
"Find a map," Tyler said, totally indifferent when he clapped him on the shoulder and started towards his horse.  
  
"Very funny," Josh sputtered, frozen in place with fear as he watched Tyler pull himself into the saddle without missing a beat. Legs thawing just in time, Josh scrambled to stop him, reaching up to grab his arm before he could ride off into the sunset and leave him to get eaten by coyotes.  
  
"Mister Joseph," he began when Tyler squinted down at him, and then, softer, " _Tyler_. I'd really appreciate it if... if you took me home. Please."  
  
Tyler raised both eyebrows, seeming almost impressed by his boldness. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
Josh shook his head.  
  
Tyler looked at him evenly for awhile, eyes narrowed and jaw set. He waited until Josh was on the brink of a nervous breakdown before heaving a sigh so dramatic that it belonged on Broadway, saying, "All right. But if you get shot, that's on you."  
  
"Yeah," Josh said, nodding wildly. "Yeah, of course."  
  
And with that Tyler pulled him up onto the horse, momentarily going stiff when Josh wrapped gentle arms around his waist - just to be safe.  
  
It almost felt good, to be associated with safety rather than bloodstains and bullets.  
  
"Which way?" Tyler asked after coming back down to earth, and he could practically _feel_ the warmth radiating from Josh's face.  
  
"I, uh. I dunno where we are, remember?"  
  
"Y'know, I'm starting to think I should've shot you when I had the chance."  
  
                                              ;  
  
Tyler wasn't used to traveling with someone else.  
  
Sure, he rode alongside his brothers for a few years, but that was more or less in the past. He now considered himself a one-man shitshow, drifting from plain to plain with only the coyotes to keep him company. Easier that way. Less complicated.  
  
Josh was complicated.  
  
Not in the sense that he was troublesome, or hard to read. Quite honestly, Tyler had never met someone so easy to understand in his entire life. Because Josh kept his eyes down and his heart on his sleeve. The very antithesis of a lonesome cowboy.  
  
Natutally, Tyler couldn't help but be fascinated by him. Everything about Josh was so utterly, irrevocably _good_ and he almost couldn't stand it. There had to be an ulterior motive, or a secret past, or _something_. Anything.  
  
Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. And that's where the complications came in. Because Tyler liked that unbridled goodness a little too much. He watched Josh laugh and bite his lip and before he knew it his heart was thumping like a fist against a door.  
  
It shouldn't have been wrong, and yet somehow, some way, it was. But Tyler figured there was nobody out there to judge him save for God, and he wasn't going out of his way to impress Him anyway.  
  
So he let go. Let go of the age-old paralysis that barred him from being tender. Let go just enough to allow the gentlest of touches - calloused hands squeezing freckled shoulders and ruffling dark curls.  
  
It wasn't long before Josh got so comfortable around Tyler that he started falling asleep on the horse, face nestled between Tyler's shoulders and warm breath piercing through the fabric of his shirt.  
  
"Y'know," Josh spoke up one night while they were eating supper under the stars, "you're the only real-life cowboy I've ever met."  
  
Tyler shrugged and poked through his can of vegetables, seeming unsurprised. "Not a whole lot of us left to meet, I guess."  
  
Josh paused, thoughtful, and said, "I think it's kinda sad."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"The way you live. Running around all the time." Josh gave him a bleeding heart look from across the fire. "Don't you ever get tired?"  
  
Tyler snorted. "I'm always tired. But I'd rather be worn out than civilized."  
  
"I think you're already pretty civilized," Josh said, mouth twitching into a half-smile. "In your own way."  
  
"Yeah, well, the government doesn't like my way," Tyler muttered, words bitter enough to rival black coffee, but that's where Josh's pity fell short.  
  
"You do steal a lot," he pointed out, and Tyler was quick to fire back.  
  
"Only from folks who can afford getting stolen from."  
  
For the first time in awhile, Josh frowned. "Me 'n my brother couldn't afford it."  
  
That's when Tyler got real quiet, so unused to looking the consequences of his actions in the eyes. It was uncomfortable, but it was necessary, and when he opened his mouth again his voice was hopelessly gentle: "Never claimed to be a good man."  
  
Josh's face softened. "I know. But maybe you should try a little harder."  
  
Tyler heaved one of those quiet sighs only God could hear, stealing a glance at the sea of ink sprawled above him, stars bobbing in its waves like wayward ships. Josh briefly interrupted his stargazing by getting to his feet and starting to move past him, only to pause, and lean down, and leave a wisp of a kiss atop Tyler's head.  
  
"Goodnight," he mumbled into his hair, and then he was gone, leaving Tyler to peer up at the moon like a child looking for approval.  
  
But maybe he didn't need it.  
  
                                             ;  
  
The closer they got to Jackson county, the quieter Tyler became until he was communicating in huffs and sighs alone. It wasn't that he was angry with Josh - how could he be? No, he was just selfish. Selfish because he'd found the one person on earth who inspired him to be better.  
  
Not perfect. Just better.  
  
Josh had single-handedly resurrected the meaning of kindness, and Tyler was so very grateful. But he was also a self-centered bastard who didn't want Josh to walk out of his life, because what then? More running? More robbing? How much more? How much?  
  
Tyler was sick of the inherent loneliness that came with being himself. Sick, and tired. So very tired.  
  
They were a day or so away from the ranch when Tyler decided to crawl into Josh's sleeping bag. It was well past midnight, but he couldn't sleep. He just kept telling himself that he was going to miss his chance, and yet he wasn't completely sure what that meant. His chance to be happy, maybe. If God would even allow such a thing.  
  
There was only one way to find out.  
  
Tyler fumbled through the darkness, bleary-eyed and perfectly unapologetic when he curled up beside Josh like a dog beneath a porch. And Josh stirred, and lifted his curly head, and rolled over so they were laying nose-to-nose. Despite the darkness, Tyler could see him smile, and it made something divine blossom in his chest.  
  
"Didn't mean t'wake you," he mumbled, which was true.  
  
"S'all right," Josh said, and his breath was warm and sweet. "I was getting kinda cold, anyway."  
  
Tyler was so busy watching the moonlight wash the farmboy's face in a watery silver that he didn't even realize he was holding his breath. Like his lungs were struggling to process the simple holiness of it just as much as his brain. Struggling to figure out what he'd done to earn the privilege of seeing such a masterpiece up close. Hell, each freckle was like a raindrop that fell from heaven and struck a perfect canvas.  
  
Josh was God's magnum opus.  
  
And it was with that godliness in mind that Tyler whispered, "I love you."  
  
It was true. And maybe that scared him - telling a truth of that size, of that strength, of that sentiment. A truth with implications. A truth that carried a kind of wrongness in its arms.  
  
But there was nothing inherently wrong with the way Josh reached up to hold Tyler's face, hold it like a piece of divinity between his tender-rough fingers. There was nothing offensive about the pads of his thumbs, how they traced the skin beneath Tyler's eyes as if to wipe away the tears he was withholding. And there was nothing evil about the way Josh smiled and said, "I love you, too."  
  
This was an astounding thing, Josh's love, because Tyler had never needed anyone. Not even his mama.  
  
God, Tyler missed his mama.  
  
But he left her long ago, and he would leave Josh, too, because that's the way things were. Who he was. The life he'd chosen. The life of a gunslinger. It paid well, but not well enough to cover the expenses of his loneliness.  
  
He wasn't lonely that night, though, and that's what mattered. So he held Josh a little tighter and fell asleep with tears festering in the far corners of his eyes.  
  
The tears were still there that morning; they held fast for the remainder of the journey, and Tyler didn't dare speak for fear of letting them loose. He just gripped the reins in helpless fingers and stared straight ahead, heartache melting into the endless yellow sorrow of the prairie.  
  
Josh's hands were on his hips. The tears burned brighter.  
  
The ranch loomed like a vague threat on the horizon, and Tyler didn't dare get within thirty yards of it. So he stopped short, letting Josh slide off the horse as if in slow motion. He almost expected him to turn and head home without a word, but this was Josh, and Josh wasn't cruel. No, he was the very antithesis of cruelty - which is why he paused to look up at Tyler with eyes that still held a few of the stars from all those nights spent under the inkblot sky.  
  
"Sorry for kidnapping you," Tyler said, because it was the best he could do at the time. "And the shootout. I swear I wasn't trying t'get you killed."  
  
The stars glittered - a warm breed of glow. "I don't mind."  
  
Tyler shifted and cleared his throat and said, "Tell your brother I'm sorry, too. I'm sure he doesn't think too highly of me at the moment."  
  
"He doesn't know you," Josh pointed out, and in the back of his mind Tyler heard him say _not like I know you._ Because nobody would ever know him as sweetly, or as sadly, or as fully. And that was okay. Josh was the only one who needed to know.  
  
That's why Tyler's voice cracked when he jerked his head in the direction of the ranch and said, "You run on home, now. You've prob'ly got cows to milk or something."  
  
Josh didn't budge. "Are you ever gonna visit? I'd really like it... if you found the time."  
  
"Maybe," Tyler replied, and the tears had moved from the far corners of his eyes to his cheeks. "Someday."  
  
Josh nodded, slow and sweet, dark curls framing his face like a halo. He said, "Just don't be a stranger, all right?"  
  
"Me? Never."  
  
And with that Josh stepped forward, stood on his tip-toes, and left a goodbye kiss on Tyler's cheek. Unbridled tenderness against rough stubble. It was more than Tyler expected, more than he deserved, and he found himself reaching up to touch the site of the phenomenon as if he couldn't quite believe it.  
  
That sweet little kiss was the morphine that kept him going, because watching Josh walk away was more painful than any gunshot wound. Lead poisoning was nothing compared to the uncertainty of love. No guarantees. Never any guarantees.  
  
Just stars. And freckles. And implications.  
  
But he kept going, as all people keep going, the kiss singing on his face as he stayed one step ahead of lawmen and bounty hunters and everyone else who wanted him in a noose.  
  
Maybe he'd finally pay his mama a visit. Maybe he'd play cards with his brothers again. Maybe he'd find himself back in Jackson county and give Josh a kiss of his own.  
  
Someday.


End file.
